Call My Name
by argetangel
Summary: You close your eyes briefly, and smash your mouth into those luscious lips of hers. You estimate it will take about three seconds for her to break your nose. ShinKumi. Dramaverse. Spinoff from the Jdrama ep 7.
1. Night

So. I was rewatching Season I of the Gokusen Jdrama, and this kind of developed. Though the first part is pretty much just what happened in the middle of Episode 7. Shin's POV.

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**Call My Name**

"I'm sorry."

You stare blandly at the steaming black, charred mess in the bowl, mildly horrified. You blink once, twice. You look up at a sheepish Yankumi, who refuses to look you in the eye, head bowed obstinately.

The apartment is tranquil, save for the lone wailing of a siren a distance away. The dimly lit room might have provided a somewhat romantic atmosphere, if not for the fact that the scent of burnt food is permeating your flat, and all chances of a home-cooked meal, for once, are brutally slaughtered. Well, _edible_ home-cooked meal, anyway.

You interrupt the unusual quiet, and, blunt as you always are with her, you ask, voice monotonous and clearly unimpressed, "What is this?"

For once, the usually dense quasi-woman senses the quiet disbelief in your voice. It is true; it is indeed unbelievable that fresh vegetables and half a kilo of meat can be so quickly rendered to this pathetic state.

She hurries to explain, "Macaroni au gratin charboiled…" she trails off, perceiving the futility in her attempt to impress you with her 'culinary training'.

You know not why you raise your voice; it might be borne of familiarity, making it easy to express your emotions in front of her. You object her dish title violently, "It's not charboiled, it's charred!"

Wisely, she keeps her mouth shut, and retrieves instant noodles from the grocery bag next to her. Your lips quirk in an involuntary smile. It seems that she, too, cannot detract from the reality of her culinary inabilities.

-

She explores your apartment while you prepare the instant food in the tiny kitchenette. As you tear the plastic wrapping with a loud crackle, she speaks.

"I spoke with your mother." Your hands freeze momentarily, before you reply, perhaps a little too sharply, "My family is irrelevant."

You abandon the noodles, and sit at the glass coffee table. "Don't meddle with things that don't concern you." You busy yourself with rummaging through the bag of instant food she bought, refusing to look at her, your tone indicating clearly the taboo topic.

Yankumi was never very good at picking up hints.

As she rambles on about how you ought to make up with your father and return home, you mumble reluctantly, still undecided if it is a good idea to let Yankumi, renown for her extreme nosiness, know. "I have no intention of returning home."

The awkward silence hangs heavy for a few long moments. You bite your lip, contemplating. Then you take the irreversible dive.

You walk around the small table, and sit in front of her. You close your eyes briefly, and smash your mouth into those luscious lips of hers.

You estimate it will take about three seconds for her to break your nose.

-

The blow never comes.

It was supposed to be an attempt to shut her up; you expected her to push you away and be too busy scolding you to talk about your family. When will you learn, that things never happen the way they are supposed to when Yankumi is around?

She is motionless, and this is when you expect her to throw you over her shoulder. When she doesn't move, you begin to suspect that maybe she has gone into shock. You pull away, wanting to check.

You only catch a glimpse of flushed cheeks, before an unreasonably strong hand is at the back of your head, prompting you forward.

Your lips and teeth crash uncomfortably with hers. Somewhere, deep _deep_ inside, a tiny part of your subconscious winces at your lack of finesse. Yankumi really doesn't know her own strength. But it doesn't matter, because the majority of your brain is solely attuned to the myriad sensations raining upon you.

Her arms push futilely at your broad shoulders, even as they pull you forward, and you see the physical manifestation of her inner conflict. You know that she wants this too; she is only putting up a token fight – otherwise, your mouth would have been long removed from your body. Your mouth moves helplessly against hers, and you feast greedily, barely stopping for breath.

A guttural groan fills the dark flat, and you realize, with sudden shock, that it came from you. The wet, slick sounds of your conjoined mouths are the only accompaniment to your harsh breathing and animalistic soundtrack.

Seconds drag into minutes, but you pay the ticking of the clock no heed, for you are too busy licking, sucking, nipping with a fervor you never knew you possessed.

And now, all you are cognizant of is the rough tip of her tongue probing against yours. A bolt of electricity jolts through you, and you can't get enough of that addictive sweetness.

You allow her a moment of dominance, before you hungrily devour her. Your tongue pushes past hers, breaching the entrance of her lips, before she is aware of your oral invasion. When realization strikes home, it is too late, for even as her tongue begins to battle yours, you stroke her soft palate, and she literally melts in your arms. She tastes of green tea and takoyaki.

An almost inaudible whisper of "Sawada" makes its way past your joined mouths; you feel it, rather than hear it. It causes you to shiver involuntarily, yet something doesn't feel quite right.

You pull away from her reluctantly, almost instantly regretting it, as you take in her swollen lips, her tantalizingly mussed hair, the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Despite your body's protests, you grip her shoulder and hold her at an arm's length, then proceed to shake your head, in an attempt to clear the fog hazing it up. Somehow, that method works, and you pinpoint the problem.

"Shin."

"Huh?" She makes a small noise of confusion, eyes still glazed over, dead to the world of logic.

You shake her, perhaps slightly more roughly than you would another woman – then again, she isn't just any woman – and hiss harshly, body now desperately aching. "Call me 'Shin'."

She sighs, rather than calls, "_Shin_."

And your heart swells so much it nearly bursts out of your chest, and you feel a rare smile curving your lips.

This, _this_ is where home is, you think, even as you proceed to ravage her lips and ravish her body.

_Home is with Yankumi._

-

Um. My first Gokusen fic ever. This was originally meant to be a oneshot, but if enough people want a part two, I might get to work on it. R&R! :D


	2. Acknowledgment

**2. Acknowledgment**

You awaken in the morning to an empty bed. A cold, empty bed. What exactly happened last night with Yankumi?

Actually, come to think of it, you can't recall ever moving to your bedroom last night. You recall kissing Yankumi out in the living room, then… ravishing her in your bed?

That doesn't make sense.

…Was it a dream?

Your normally photographic memory chooses now, of all times, to bail out on you. Your recollection of last night is hazy around the edges, and you are primed to dismiss it as a very vivid and realistic dream.

If not for the fact that the taste of green tea and takoyaki seem to be exceptionally distinct. Too sharp, in fact, for it to be the mere vestige of a dream.

Still, your thoughts are filled with doubt and confusion.

It will be disappointing, no doubt, to find out that those soft curves and sweat-slick skin are mere products of your hormonal imagination, but still you prepare yourself for the worst.

After all, the worst that could happen would be the nonexistence of last night… right?

You suck at self-persuasion.

But you know that, no matter if last night were a dream or reality, the dynamics of your relationship with Yankumi have irreversibly changed. Fantasy or no, it is no longer possible for you to merely look upon her as your teacher.

It scares you; you had no idea that your feelings were this explosive, and simmering so close to the surface. How many more facets of yourself, you wonder dully, do you have as little control over?

Especially when it comes to Yamaguchi Kumiko.

-

Something definitely happened last night; Yankumi has refused to look at you the entire day. When you arrive late through the back door of the classroom, she chooses to continue with her lesson, instead of doling the usual reprimand of "Sawada, you're late again!"

Even when soliciting rare (and usually incorrect) answers from the class, she studiously avoids the back of the classroom. How she can act like nothing has happened and be her happy go lucky self is beyond your scope of comprehension, as well as patience – it pisses you off.

The dark aura clings to you like a shadow throughout those long hours; the class is astute enough to give you a wide berth. Luckily they're not intuitive enough to link your moodiness to the idiot teacher who's trying to play obtuse. Though Uchi and Kuma do send you a couple of questioning looks before giving up in face of your hard, blank stare.

You spend the first half of the school day convincing yourself that she will look for you later to talk. But break rolls past, and despite deliberately waiting alone at the rooftop, the familiar scrape of her shoes doesn't sound.

That has never happened before. Whatever has happened, _she doesn't want to acknowledge it._ That thought brings a lump to your throat, and a strange burning sensation to your eyes.

You don't bother to go back to class after break. You ignore the fact that it is summer, and that it is very possible to get sunburn – you stay up on the roof dozing. However, the back of your eyelids are seared with an achingly familiar face and an equally well-known voice sounds repeatedly in your mind. You just lie there, and will the images and sounds away, eventually falling into a restless sleep.

Yankumi doesn't come to look for you, even though you're playing truant.

-

You leave school before the bell rings, because you can't stand just not doing anything when there are so many unanswered questions ricocheting inside your head.

You ignore the text messages from Kuma ('_R u sick?'_) and Uchi ('_U ok?_') sitting on your cell phone screen. You're just not in the mood to entertain their questions today, no matter how well-meaning they might be.

You blink at the stark walls of your bare apartment, and imagine you can see two figures passionately kissing in the vague shadows cast upon the white plaster – you and Yankumi.

You head to your bedroom, feeling a migraine coming on.

In an uncharacteristic show of frustration, you flop down heavily on the bed, trying to will those conflicting emotions away.

Obviously, it doesn't work.

-

You've spent your high school life rejecting scores of girls; indeed, 'lady-killer' is 3D's second favourite nickname for you, right behind 'Leader'. You've always figured it's not worth it to date some girl who is so shallow as to only like you for your looks or bad-boy status. After all, didn't you leave home to escape such superficiality?

As such, the only girl you talk to is Natsumi… and Yankumi (who is admittedly sometimes more man than girl). However, it is this… _selective _trait of yours, that has resulted in you not knowing how to handle rejection. From a guy-bashing, violent, flighty and idiotic Yakuza heiress, no less.

You seriously need to reconsider your taste in women.

But then the sickening image of Yankumi and the irritatingly charismatic policeman Shinohara acting all lovey-dovey rises, unbidden, to your mind, and it is all you can do to keep the bile down and your heart in one piece.

Fuck. This isn't just some high school crush.

This is infatuation (you still refuse to label it the dreaded L-word).

-

You decide to let it lie for the day. You quell all subconscious voices urging you to make your way to the Oedo house to demand answers. You'll let her think it over tonight (plus you don't think her henchmen will be very pleased to learn that you are pursuing an intimate relationship with their Ojou. Tetsu, in particular, might have extreme adverse reactions).

As you finally settle into a fitful sleep, your last thoughts are _tomorrow – tomorrow I'll confront her._

You may be a spoilt brat, but you're not backing down. Not when Yankumi's concerned.

She'd better be prepared, because what Sawada Shin wants, Sawada Shin gets.

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First off, I'm sorry this took so long. I had exams coming up (which are thankfully over now), and had writer's block after that. I'm wondering if I should change this to a 'M' rating and write some smut? Haha I don't know. Opinions please! :D

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	3. Confrontation

**3. Confrontation**

You corner her where she is defenceless – in the staff room. She can neither run, nor hide now. All the teachers turn at the sound of the door sliding open, with the exception of Yankumi. The teachers watch with curious eyes, as you make a beeline for Yankumi, before Sawatari (you refuse to acknowledge him as Kyoto; Saruwatari* is another valid option) can chase you out.

Even when you stop at her desk, Yankumi still stares fixedly at her test papers, but you note, with some vindictive satisfaction, that her pen has stopped moving across the sheets. You grab her arm hard (though you know she could easily remove the hand) and mutter brusquely, "I need to talk to you."

She can't turn you down, and she can't not acknowledge your presence. Still, you resist the urge to clench your jaw when she finally looks up, for she rests her gaze upon a spot beyond your shoulder, instead of maintaining the eye-to-eye contact she usually favours.

Her cheeks flush a dark red. "Shi – Sawada. I'm busy mark- " You don't give her time to finish her lame excuse, before dragging her out of the staff room, barely able to hide the smirk that threatens to curve your lips when you notice Kawashima and Fujiyama whispering excitedly together. You wonder if they noticed her almost calling you by your first name. With their wild imaginations, those women are undoubtedly coming to correct conclusions. That thought causes your iron grip to become just a little more possessive.

_You're mine_.

-

In what you deem as an extremely wise act of self-preservation, you release her wrist as soon as you manage to pull Yankumi out of her sanctuary of the staff room. Amazingly, despite being out of both sight and hearing of the other teachers, Yankumi hasn't made to twist your arm behind your back and punch you in the gut. Instead, she follows at your heels; you no longer have to drag her. It seems that Yankumi has resigned herself to the fact that she will have to face you, sooner or later.

It is long after school hours, and students still milling around the school grounds are few to none, most having either gone home or to cram school, your friends being no exception – except _they_ probably headed to an arcade or the like.

The reddish-gold of the evening sun illuminates the corridors, and your shadows are elongated in front of you as the two of you walk down the empty hallways. Yankumi is now walking next to you in silence, as if by some unspoken communication, she knows where you're headed. You can't help but notice, that with your hand swinging slightly behind Yankumi's, your shadows look like you're holding hands.

Yankumi, of course, notices neither your observation nor the secretly pleased smile that plays on your lips.

-

The door leading to the rooftop is unlocked, even though the custodian is supposed to have locked all doors by now. However, you pay this matter little heed, for it is to your advantage.

Yankumi remains unusually quiet, striding ahead to lean against the parapet, her back facing you while you shut the door firmly behind you.

"Yankumi…" you begin, before realizing you have no idea what to say. Intelligent and eloquent as you are, this is one of the times when words seem to fail you. In the end, you just let the single word hang in the air, whilst wracking your brain to find a way to kickstart the interrogation. Because despite being blunt as you usually are with Yankumi, you don't want to scare her away at this critical juncture. Just one day of avoidance was more than enough, that much you _do_ know.

Surprisingly, it is Yankumi who breaks the awkward silence. "So, what did you want to talk about… Sawada?" Even though her voice cracks imperceptibly on the last word, that little is more than enough to alert your notice.

Perhaps, with Yankumi, straightforward _is _the only way to go. "Yankumi, why have you been avoiding me?"

Looking at her side profile, you see the indecision warring openly on her face. You always have been able to read her like an open book.

"What… what are you talking about?" Her voice is pitched higher than normal, and she ends her question with a girlish giggle that is unbefitting a woman her age. It seems that cornering her and eliciting answers from her are two very different matters.

Even though you half-expected it, the hurt doesn't lessen when Yankumi deliberately acts obtuse with you. Of all people, Yankumi has never lied to you about essential things. And _this_ is of utmost importance.

After all, this concerns your… relationship.

-

One step diagonally right brings you face to face with her, your nose barely an inch away from hers. You grip her shoulders hard, pressing her back against the parapet. The cement edge must dig into her back, but she keeps silent.

At this point, you are barely conscious of your physical actions, so focused are you on extracting a satisfactory answer.

You feel the heat of her gaze almost before you see her actually staring point-blank at you. Despite you clutching her shoulders, she still assumes what you privately term her battle pose – legs apart, hands positioned defiantly on her hips.

She opens her mouth, presumably to answer.

'Presumably', because whatever Yankumi intended to say is lost in the loud click of the rooftop door.

-

You freeze, and your fingers stiffen. By Yankumi's goggle-eyed expression, it seems that the two of you have simultaneously become aware of the compromising position you would seem to be in by a third party.

But when panic sets in, your muscles knot up, rendering you immovable. However, glancing at Yankumi's horrified face, you secretly hope that you are caught like that.

After all, you _have_ been thinking of staking your claim on her, and what better way to do it than to get caught in an improper setting?

-

Those coveted footsteps never come. There is no approaching person.

As the spell of (Yankumi's) horror and (your) anticipation wears off, your hands drop to your sides, and Yankumi's face returns to a more normal mien. In swift synchronized movements, the both of you stride to the door, which looks exactly as it had when you closed it.

Somehow, you _know_ it before your hand stretches out of its own volition.

You twist the steel knob. It won't budge.

Looks like the two of you are stuck here, alone, till tomorrow.

-

_*Saru: monkey_

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AN: Finally, chapter 3! I apologize for the long wait, but be warned; I will probably take as long to write the next chapter. Thanks to the readers who've stuck with this story despite the slow updating :D (perhaps reviewing more might pressure me to write faster haha)

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